


made for the stage

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Painplay, Public Sex, Size Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 22:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: When the Grandmaster suggested Loki perform for an audience, this isn't what Loki had in mind.





	made for the stage

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous: would you write something with the grandmaster making loki come in front of an audience?

Loki is breathing shallowly, his thighs spread as wide as they can be with shackles about his ankles, forcing him to retain the position. His back is against the Grandmaster’s chest, his head tipped back against the Grandmaster’s left shoulder, and the Grandmaster is nibbling and biting at his neck, his tongue hot and wet and distinctly at odds with Loki’s cold, dry skin. 

His fingers are playing over Loki’s pectorals, running in slow, easy circles over the flesh, and then he digs his thumbnails over Loki’s nipples, making him gasp and arch into the touch: his eyes open, and a cheer goes up from the crowd. Loki bites down hard against his lower lip, staring out over the rapt audience: the gilded couch they are seated upon, Loki in the Grandmaster’s lap, is set in the centre of a great stage, and  _hundreds_  of people are looking down at them, a spotlight heating Loki’s flesh. 

Of course it had to be a theatre. Of course, when the Grandmaster said, “You don’t mind, ha, mind a few people watching, do ya?” this is what he meant. And the Grandmaster’s hands are slowly moving downward, where - despite himself, despite his shame, and humiliation, and  _indignation_  - he is hard, and he is wet. 

And the Grandmaster’s hands are on his thighs, now, dipping into the wetness that pearls at Loki’s entrance, the tips of his fingers barely  _ghosting_  over Loki’s open, clenching lips, and then he is dragging the cool lubricant in slick, easy circles over Loki’s sensitive thighs, already burning from the position he is holding. It is driving Loki slowly insane. 

Playing him like an instrument, like Loki is but a cello and the Grandmaster’s hands are the bow, Loki feels himself gasp and whine and arch into the touches, teasing although they are, teasing although they’ll continue to be. When the Grandmaster bites down  _hard_  on the line between Loki’s shoulder and his neck, the ragged scream it kicks out of Loki is only heightened by the fact that the Grandmaster chooses  _this_  moment to press his fingers inside him, three at once, burning him, stretching him!

Loki feels his own blood trickle down his chest, and he is gasping, his bound hands twitching where they are caught between his back and the Grandmaster’s belly, keeping them out of the way - it wouldn’t do, after all, if Loki could touch himself. 

“Please,” he whispers.

“Now, now, Loki,” the Grandmaster chides him, and he thrusts three fingers in and then pulls them out with a slick, wet  _pop_  of sound, making Loki sob out an ugly little keen. “The mics can’t, uh, they can’t pick that up. You gotta talk a little louder, honey.”

“ _Please_ ,” he says, and the Grandmaster laughs. His tongue laps over the wound on Loki’s shoulder, playing in the spots where his teeth have broken Loki’s inhumanly thick skin, and his other hand wraps around Loki’s cock, making him  _cry_.

“It’s not really a cock, is it, ladies, gentlemen, others?” the Grandmaster calls to the audience at large, and his response is jeers and cheers and whoops, and Loki feels the humiliation bubble like heat beneath his cold flesh, feels himself wishing he could just  _die_ , right this moment, but please,  _Norns_ , please, not before he comes. “Just a clitoris, really…” And Loki hates it, hates it, hates that the Grandmaster is  _right_ , hates that he is small, and weak, and desperate, hates the fact that he could easily break free with his seidr if he wanted to, except he doesn’t want to.

He wants this. He hates that he wants it, hates that the audience’s hungry stares electrify his skin, hates that the Grandmaster knows him,  _plays_  him, so easily: he hates himself. But this? Here, bound in the Grandmaster’s lap and held open, fingers buried inside him, a hand around his cock, a condescending voice in his ear? Loki loves it. He hates that he loves it, but he does.

The Grandmaster slides his pinky finger in alongside the other four, spreading Loki wide, and Loki whimpers, feels a burning in his eyes at the  _almost painful_  sudden stretch, and the Grandmaster soothes him softly, murmuring, “You’re so pretty, Lolo, so lovely, just like this… Doing so good. You wanna come? Why don’t you, ha, why don’t you come for me, sweetheart?”

And it’s too much. The heat of the Grandmaster against his back, the burn in his spread thighs, the shame of the audience, the press of the fingers inside him, the other hand that is wrapped around the scant inches of Loki’s cock there are to touch, that’s all too much already, but then, oh, but  _then_ , the Grandmaster lets magic burst from his fingertips, settling hungrily and dizzyingly hot on Loki’s flesh, and he is coming,  _coming_ , his cunt clenching desperately around the thrusting fingers, his little cock giving a weak spatter against his chest, and Loki only realises he is screaming when he stops.

For a long few seconds, as the aftershocks ravage his body, there is silence, and then the cheers begin: raucous and loud applause, more cheers, yells for  _encore_ , and Loki shakes in his place. “You ready?” the Grandmaster whispers in his ear. “I’m going to have my champion, uh, fuck you, for all these people. They’re going to love it.”

“Who is your champion?” Loki asks, softly. The Grandmaster laughs, amused. 

“I’m going to fuck you first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out [my Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com) for more, or if you want to send in a request.


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